Still Here
by Cheshiremask
Summary: The people you meet in life never truly leave you. Not as long as you remember them. They live on in your memories, though some are more lasting than others. Rated M for mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

At first, it was just because I felt alone. It was too easy to pretend that the reflection I saw in the mirror was his face instead of mine…a pair of empty glasses frames and the illusion was perfect. I had known him for so long that I could smile like he did, talk like he did, stand like he did…

We had always had the same eyes.

I stopped playing the guitar. He had never really liked them, what they did to one's hands, and the piano was just as convenient. My home was more than big enough for the grand piano he'd been forced to leave behind, and my guitar only reminded me of the other failure, the other betrayal that I'd suffered. I couldn't be the rocker anymore; the thought had too many memories…too many good times that were soured by the last abandonment I couldn't take. I just looked in the mirror and smiled and told myself that it was alright, that I could still have music and that it would have better memories, private memories, memories that could never be so horribly sullied because no matter how horrible the things that _he_ had done, they had all been done out of a twisted kind of love.

Even at the end, he had told me that he loved me.

It got easier to pretend, as time went by. I had wanted to deny his death ever since the day of his execution, when I had been forced to watch them put the needles in his arms through the shatterproof window, when I had forced myself to look into his eyes, deep, ice blue and suddenly more sane than I'd seen them in a long, long while. I saw the words his lips formed; though I couldn't hear them, though they were stolen…_Ich liebe dich, Klavier_…

A part of me died when he did, when he finally fell still and my heart broke and I pushed everyone away, even though there were people there to comfort me. I just went back to his old home, the one I had moved out of what seemed like decades ago, and curled into the sofa, crying until I couldn't breathe, filling my lungs with what lingered of his scent. I could have stayed there for days; I tore the battery out of my phone the first time it rang. I wallowed in the thick sorrow that flooded my veins, the disgusting knowledge that I had done the betraying this time, that I had signed my own brother's death warrant and no matter what he'd done, no matter what they said was _justice_, I was more of a killer than he had ever been. I had let them take him from me. I hadn't fought hard enough. I had failed him. I had let him die.

I don't know when it was that my guilt became so overwhelming that I decided to join him.

All I can remember was going into his bathroom and searching through his cabinet for the aspirin I knew would still be there. I almost started crying again when I remembered the times he would come home from work, complaining about a headache because he'd fought so hard for his client. It took a long while for me to be able to wrench open the lid, to pour a handful of pills into my palm, to close the cabinet door so I could offer myself some kind of final farewell too…

It wasn't _my_ face that I saw in the mirror, though. It was _his_.

I can almost remember the clatter of the pills falling into the sink, rattling into the drain, but what I really recall was that he smiled at me when my own face was slack with shock. That he shook his head, though I didn't move. I thought that I was seeing things, but his face didn't move, didn't change when I stepped back, when I almost fell into the tub. He told me to be careful, that he still loved me, even though I'd done a bad thing. I believed him, and for the first time since he'd left me I felt _something_. He promised not to leave me again. He promised to help me be strong. All he wanted in return was to be a part of me, was to _have_ a part of me, and I was so happy to see him again, how could I do anything but agree?

No one noticed that I started wearing his cologne. No one I knew had ever worked closely enough with him to recognize it…and I avoided anyone who would. No one seemed to care that my right hand would touch my hair sometimes when I wasn't paying attention to what was going on, that I would lean into the touch. No one commented on the little mirror I started keeping on my desk, because even when they looked into it, they only saw me, not what I saw.

I'm happier now. I don't feel so alone. I can sit down at night, in front of the mirror on my vanity, and I can watch him brush my hair, smile that beautiful, enigmatic smile, and he and I can be strong again. He can love me again. And I can lose myself in his deep blue eyes and forget that I ever lost him in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst. Just…tear itself to pieces. I know that I'm all alone…and yet I'm not. But…the part of me that keeps me from feeling that pain…_

_It's not _me_._

There's a soft shift off to one side, the pen that had been on top of the papers I'd been looking at earlier rolling off towards the edge of the desk. I consider letting it fall for a while, but my hand reaches out and plucks it off of the desktop before it has a chance to go too far. It's a controlled, graceful movement…a beautiful movement, wasting no energy as my hand carries on to pull another sheet of note paper towards me as it brings the pen along…

But then, that makes sense. Kristoph was always the economical one.

It's gotten to the point where I no longer actually go to work. Or if I do, it's only because _I'm_ needed. Kristoph, for example, hasn't had a court date since he'd come back to me, by mutual agreement…but that might not be an issue for much longer. I can't stand seeing Apollo on the other side of the courtroom from me anymore. He always tries to ask me if I'm alright afterwards…or invite me out to coffee or something. I know he's just being nice, that he's probably worried about me…but he doesn't understand that neither of us wants to be around him right now. Kristoph still can't forgive him, in a sense, and I won't go against my brother again. Never again.

The only reason I'm awake for work today is because we agreed that we'd both be there to look over the transfer request. If we can get it, we'll be put to work evaluating old cases to see which ones should be re-submitted to the new court system. It won't be glamorous, really, and it will mean I won't really see anyone I've gotten used to seeing over the past few years of my career…but we've both agreed that it's for the best. I don't want anyone to recognize Kristoph and try to take him away from me, because…that's what they'd do if they heard that he'd come back.

_Stop thinking so hard._ He has to step back a little so that it's _my _handwriting and signature on the bottom of this latest page. One of the first things we noticed is that he still writes like he always did, even though he's borrowing my hand. _Everything will be alright. We will be careful, and we will stay quiet. You won't lose me again, Klavier, I promise you that._

"Ja…" I whisper my response, still unused to the fact that he can hear my thoughts when _his _always sound like they're being spoken by someone standing beside me.

I seal the request into its envelope as soon as we're done with it and get up to leave it with my secretary. She hasn't really spoken to me as much after Kristoph's…after that day. No one in the Prosecutor's Offices has…but I don't need them anymore, really. And I'm not interested in flirting.

I only really relax when we're at home. I still have to drive most of the time because we can't find a good enough excuse to use the car yet. Until we have boxes of files to bring home and review, it has to be my hog, and Kristoph never bothered to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Every time I start it up, though, I can feel him watching. It's not like I mind, though. There might come a day when I need him to drive in my place. It takes a little of the joy out of it, but Kristoph sometimes lets me just have my way, sleeping as I tear down the highway as quickly as I'm able, just to feel the wind against my body and forget, for a moment, that my life has changed so very much.

"You should sleep more, Klavier." He sighs softly, picking up the pair of non-prescription glasses I bought to make sure he could be comfortable when he borrows my body. He looks me in the eye in the mirror as he changes our clothing, as I give him full control of our whole body so he can do it efficiently. "You're getting bags under your eyes. It's unprofessional and unhealthy."

_Ja…I'll try, Kris._

He finishes fixing our tie and nods, giving us one last look in the mirror as he brushes our hair – dyed brown with the best quality stage-makeup we could find – back into the low, classic ponytail we've adopted for our new alter-ego. He gives us one last look before nodding and stepping away from the mirror, leaving me to either watch or doze off as he heads off to his part-time job at the courthouse library. It's boring, but he says he likes being able to watch the lawyers come and go. I stopped paying attention to the comings and goings when Apollo first noticed us and introduced himself, shaking our hand in blissful ignorance and taking our pseudonym in stride like the trusting defense attorney he was.

We had an argument after that day, but Kristoph says he just wants to keep his eye on Apollo, to make sure that he and Wright don't cause problems for me…

He knows that I don't believe him, too. But he's forgiven me, and that's more than I could ever ask for.


End file.
